


Run Run, Fast As You-

by Macremae



Category: Wooden Overcoats
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae
Summary: Chapman's father comes to visit.





	Run Run, Fast As You-

There was a car parked in front of Chapman’s, which was odd enough in itself, mainly due to the fact that Piffling Vale was an island exactly one mile wide.

Rudyard peered out of the kitchen window with a curdling mixture of curiosity and jealousy. Who on Earth was so important that they would drive a car on such a tiny island? And why would they go to Chapman’s of all places?

The answer, of course, was staring him right in the face, but he chose to ignore it.

The car broadcasted its expense like a gilded billboard sign; sleek and black with tinted windows and a crown fixed the hood. It shimmered like a slick of oil smeared over the pastel colors of the shop behind it. 

Rudyard narrowed his eyes. What were they doing? It was too late in the day for any customers, and no person on Piffling owned a car like that. So who could it be?

Curiosity and pride battled inside him, but the former won out. Rudyard hopped down off the kitchen counter and opened the front door, marching across the square to get a good look at the vehicle.

Before he could, however, a burly looking woman stepped out of the car. She was monstrously tall, with thick dreads pulled back into a severe ponytail, and rippling muscles showed through her tight black shirt. She was the kind of woman that Georgie would have fallen completely in love with.

Rudyard, being fairly homosexual if he did say so himselfa gay man, was more nervous that besotted.

“Er. Hello,” he said. “You- ah. You need to move, please.”

The woman crossed her arms. “No.”

Rudyard made a face. “Now look here. I don’t know who you are or whom you work for, but I have some very important questions to ask the proprietor of this business, so I’d suggest you let me through.”

The woman didn’t move. She just stared at him oddly, as if she couldn’t believe this strange little man was talking to her this way. She raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you need to ask him?”

“Well,” Rudyard said, drawing himself up to his full height (which wasn’t much), “Eric Chapman and I so happen to be bitter rival, as you must know-”

“I don’t.”

“Well now you do. And I would like to know what a fancy car and a bloody bodyguard are doing outside his shop! And why they aren’t outside _mine_ instead.”

The woman raised a keen eyebrow. “So you don’t know my employer at all, do you?”

“No,” Rudyard said with a huff, “that’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“Huh,” she said. “And this Eric fellow, you hate his guts. How come?”

“Because he’s my business rival, as well as the obvious fact that he’s absolutely perfect, so _obviously_ I hate him. Are you going to keep asking inane questions, or are you going to let me in?”

The woman thought for a moment. “Well. He never said that no one could come in if they didn’t know about him.” She smiled slyly. “Go right on ahead, honey.”

Rudyard made another face. “Er, alright then. Thank you. I suppose.” He turned the knob of Chapman’s front door and stepped in.

The instant he did, Rudyard could feel that something was different. The air seemed stranger, and colder. It had lost its warm, sunny feeling, and the hearty smell of coffee was barely there. It prickled on his skin, cool and unwelcome. Even the usually bright lights of the showroom felt darker, like a haunted house not set up for visitors.

“Hello?” Rudyard called out tentatively. “Chapman? I have some questions I’d like to ask you!”

When there was no response, Rudyard began to make his way to the back door of the showroom, searching for any signs of Chapman’s presence. As none appeared, he let out a frustrated huff. 

“Chapman, if you’re playing some sort game with me, it isn’t funny.”

Just then, Rudyard heard the faint sounds of conversation coming from down the hall. He moved towards the noise, curious, and as it grew louder he could make out a voice that was distinctly not Chapman’s.

It was gruff and chilly, talking rapidly in a mix of English and Spanish, from what Rudyard could understand. The man it belonged to sounded angry, furious even. As Rudyard crept closer, he realized it was coming from what must have been Chapman’s bedroom. He slid against the wall, then peeked inside.

There was indeed a man yelling at Chapman. He was tall, with a tan, weathered face and short grey hair. His face was handsomely carved, except for his eyes, which were alight with a kind of frightening madness that bored into the man before him.

But, if Rudyard was believing what he was seeing, Chapman didn’t look very manly at all. His eyes were downcast, shoulders hunched in on themselves. His mouth was set in a tight little line, and his entire body looked stiff and frightened, like a deer caught in a bear trap.

The usual pride at the sight of a cowardly Chapman was gone, replaced by a cold worry. It unsettled Rudyard, the weight of his feelings an awkward burden on his mind.

“Eric,” the man said, “ _principito_ , this is a disgrace! I search everywhere for you, use every resource at my disposal to find you, and this is where you turn up? On some _penoso _little island selling funerals? Selling death? It is a shame to our family!”__

__Chapman tried to cut in with a, “Father, I-”, and Rudyard’s eyes widened. This was Chapman’s father?_ _

__“ _Calleta_ , enough!” Chapman’s father shouted, causing his son and Rudyard to flinch. “You will stop this foolish business at once and come home with me. You have a duty to your family and to your country, and I will not see you waste away on some _estupidez_.”_ _

__“Father, please,” Chapman tried again, but a look silenced him. Rudyard felt sick to his stomach as he watched this. Unwanted memories swarmed to the front of his mind of his father screaming at him, wondering why he couldn’t have had a son when there was secretly one staring right at home. For the first time since Christmas, Rudyard felt truly sorry for Chapman._ _

__“I will wait in the car,” his father said sharply, and stormed towards the door. Rudyard yelped and ducked into a hall closet behind him, quickly enveloped by darkness as Chapman’s father strode by. For a few seconds, everything was silent._ _

__Then, Chapman began to cry._ _

__It was horridly quiet, with great gulping sobs stifled by heavy breaths. His hands clutched at his knees, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Chapman’s teeth were gritted tightly, the occasional whimper escaping him. His shoulders shook heavily, brought up tight around his ears. It was the tears of someone who had never been allowed to cry._ _

__Rudyard felt a cold presence behind him, two dark eyes boring into his back. He was frozen as the light sensation of his father’s phantom hand fell onto his shoulder. He flinched._ _

__“Look at me, Ismene,” his father whispered softly, voice tinged with venom. “Look at me when I speak to you.”_ _

__“Go away,” Rudyard choked out, shaking with fear. “You’re not real.”_ _

__“Ismene,” he said again, “look at me.”_ _

__“Shut up, you’re not real, you’re not real,” Rudyard whispered, panic boiling in his gut. He wanted to run, but he was trapped in this dark little space with his worst nightmare, and he couldn’t get out._ _

__“Ismene-”_ _

__“Shut up!” he screamed, and burst out of the closet. Rudyard raced down the hall like a hurricane, storming towards the showroom and throwing open the back door with a bang, catching Chapman’s father off guard._ _

__“Who the devil are you?” he asked roughly, eyes widening in surprise. Rudyard seethed._ _

__“How dare you speak to Chapman that way.”_ _

__The man puffed out his chest. “Excuse me?”_ _

__Rudyard took a deep breath. “I said, how dare you! I don’t know who you are or what you really want with him, but you have no right to speak to him that way. Eric Chapman is the kindest, cleverest, most incredible and accomplished man I have ever met, and your treatment of him is utterly abhorrent. You act in no way like his father, or like any father at all! You have a wonderful son; appreciate him! Love him! Dear God, all a child wants is that! I don’t care what you think of him , but to Piffling and to me, he will always be someone we are proud of !”_ _

__Chapman’s father looked as if he had been slapped in the face. His cheeks turned a fiery red, face purpling with fury. “You dare-”_ _

__“Yes,” Rudyard interrupted crisply, “I do dare. Now you need to leave. You won’t be welcome in Piffling anymore.”_ _

__He let out a frustrated shout and spun on his heel, stomping out the door. Rudyard felt a surge of satisfaction- at least, until he heard the voice behind him._ _

__“Did you mean all that?”_ _

__Rudyard whirled around, startled. Chapman was standing in the doorway, eyes wet and red, staring at him. He was smiling, not in triumph, but in awe. “All those things you said about me… did you mean it?”_ _

__Rudyard felt his own face turn red. “I- er. Well. I wasn’t not telling the truth if that’s what’s you’re asking.”_ _

__Chapman’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “I knew it.”_ _

__“Oh, knew what?” Rudyard huffed._ _

__“That you didn’t hate me! You couldn’t have! Not after saying all these things!”_ _

__Rudyard sputtered, “I- I take it all back. I was lying. I was lying this whole time!”_ _

__“No you weren’t,” Chapman said grinning. “You like me. You actually _like_ me.”_ _

__“Slander. Lies and slander.”_ _

__With a good humored shake of his head, Chapman strode up and put a hand on Rudyard’s shoulder. “Truth,” he said. Then his smile faded. “And I suppose you want to hear mine.”_ _

__Rudyard did. He really truly did. But deep inside him, a little voice pointed out how scared Eric had been, and how small he looked now._ _

__He sighed. “Not if you don’t want to.”_ _

__“I don’t. But- I mean- I do. I think I do. You get it?”_ _

__“No,” Rudyard said, shaking his head, except he did._ _

__Chapman sat down on top of one of the coffins and motioned for Rudyard to sit next to him. He did._ _

__“What do you know about my past, Rudyard?”_ _

__Rudyard shrugged. “Abso-bloody-lutely nothing.”_ _

__“And I suppose,” Chapman said, “that was the point.” He sighed. “Let me tell you a story._ _

__“Once upon a time in Spain there lived a little boy, and even though his family was very _very_ far down the line of succession, his father told him that one day, he was going to be king. It didn’t matter that it was a one in a million chance. Io a father whose dreams were long dried up, and a child who knew no better than the stories he was told, that future was the truth. So, the boy’s father worked diligently to prepare his son for the great destiny that was sure to befall him._ _

__“It was a good dream, and a lovely dream, but a fool’s dream nonetheless. With every roadblock, every sign that his plans would be all for naught, the father pushed even harder. The little boy worked and worked and worked until he couldn’t anymore, and then he got up and did again. There were expectations, you see, and responsibilities, and didn’t he want to make his father proud? Wasn’t he grateful for everything that had been done for him, had been sacrificed? Didn’t he want to be a good son?_ _

__“He did, of course, but it seemed he never could._ _

__“The little boy’s mother was too frightened of his father to say anything, and his sister was so jealous of her brother’s attention and privilege (she didn’t know; couldn’t have known; the little boy hid it very well) that she only made things worse. So his father pushed and pushed, until things began to go rather pear-shaped._ _

__“It’s a lot of stress to put on a young child, you see, and as the little boy grew older, he began to get very nervous. This did not look good for the family at all, who were still a little bit in the limelight, so his mother convinced his father to get him some pills to make the anxiety go away. He agreed, and it worked._ _

__“For a while._ _

__“Then the little boy got older, and his father pushed him harder, and he became even more nervous. So he took a few more pills than usual. Just a few. Nothing to worry about._ _

__“More pushing. More nerves. More pills._ _

__“I imagine you can see how this ends._ _

__“One day the little boy (although, he was a young man now) took one extra pill too many, and had to be tucked away. His family withdrew from the public, and his father’s dreams of a royal son were crushed._ _

__“The young man left his family as soon as he could, and began to travel the world in search of something to do with his life. He had been masterfully schooled in law, diplomacy, politics, treasury, strategy and the like, but nothing that a king would not have to know. Thus: a problem, but the world is a big place, and the young man met many new and interesting people who taught him many new and interesting things. It was a suitcase life, and a lonely one, too, but a good one._ _

__“Just one problem._ _

__“In his hurry to leave his family and their stresses behind, he had stayed just long enough at the hospital to fix the damage the overdose had done to his system. He hadn’t stayed long enough to fix the damage the pills had done to his mind._ _

__“So, he had a teeny, tiny, totally-workable-with addiction. No big deal. No problem. He was fine. He was always fine._ _

__“He had to be._ _

__“When the young man received word that his family was wise to his whereabouts, he knew it was time to disappear. He found an add for a store property on a little island in the middle of nowhere called Piffling Vale, and packed up his things once more._ _

__“Of course, he needed to pick an actual job to do. But what? It had to be something uncharacteristic, something that no one would ever expect him to do. A job that didn’t get put in the spotlight, or a story in the local newspaper. A job that, really, no one wanted to think about at all._ _

__“Well there’s a thought: funerals._ _

__“And say, someone’s gone and passed away the day he’s moved in. Fancy that._ _

__“There’s that little problem of his place being right across from another funeral home, but the owner there is rather neat, and he’s always been good at getting people to like him. Perhaps if anything comes of it, they could join forces._ _

__“For once in a very long time, everything seems to fall into place. Business goes remarkably well (pity about the serial killer, though), and he’s loved by everyone in the village. And yes, he will admit, he’s being purposefully charming and clever and a bit manipulative, but that’s the only way to get people to like you. His father told him so, and his father was never wrong. It was obviously his fault for leaving and shaming the family in the first place. There’s still that pang of wistfulness for the carefree childhood he never had, so he makes sure to remind everyone he meets to enjoy themselves. He’s found a home, he thinks. he’s happy. what could possibly go wrong?_ _

__“Oh. right. still haven’t solved the pill problem._ _

__“The source of his anxiety is gone, but the damage is more than done. He’ll fix it, of course, but he’s doing okay now. He’s coping._ _

__“And besides, he has things to do. There’s a business to run, and people to befriend, and a whole new life to build. This is his home now, and nothing is going to change that. He is perfectly, totally, completely fine._ _

__“He has to be.”_ _

__There was a long, echoing silence. It permeated the room, slipping into every nook and crevice, filling it with choking quiet. Rudyard felt sick. What the hell. What the actual hell? His find swam- no- drowned in confusion. How could someone so utterly perfect and incredible as Chapman have a story like that? How could he have been that man- could _be_ that man? A reject, an outcast, an addict? It boggled the mind like a polynomial._ _

__Chapman let out a heavy breath. “And now you know. The truth, I suppose.”_ _

__Rudyard thought on this for a moment. Then, he said, “Who bloody cares?”_ _

__Chapman’s head snapped up, shocked. “I- what?”_ _

__“Who cares!” Rudyard exclaimed, leaping up from the coffin. “That was the old you, the ‘then’ you, the one Piffling doesn’t know! You can be anything now! So be kind! Be mysterious! Be anything you bloody want! Who cares what anyone else thinks?”_ _

__Chapman stood, his face breaking into a tiny smile. “You really think so?”_ _

__Rudyard felt something warm and light rush up into his chest. “Obviously.”_ _

__With a much wider smile now, Chapman took both of his hands and squeezed. “I… thank you, Rudyard. For believing in me. For saying that I could do better.”_ _

__Rudyard could make out each of the freckles on Chapman’s warm skin, little dots of sunlight on deerskin. His hands were warm. They were also shaking._ _

__“Your hands are shaking,” Chapman whispered, moving closer._ _

__Rudyard whispered back, “I’m a bit terrified if we’re staying honest.”_ _

__Chapman smiled. “I won’t tell.”_ _

__Kissing Eric Chapman was like stepping out into the sun from the chilly shade in springtime, like warmth in Rudyard’s very bones, like soft lips and steady hands clutching his. Like the easiest thing in the world was the most wonderful. It was Chapman’s lips moving gently against his, head tilting for a better angle, wanting more of Rudyard against all the odds. It was like they had done this for the first time a million times before._ _

__It was at that time Chapman’s father chose to burst in, seething and in the middle of shouting something about lawyers. Rudyard and Chapman broke apart quickly, blushing like mad and staring at this new development with confusion._ _

__However, when he noticed what had been occurring, Chapman’s father turned white as a sheet._ _

__“My boy-” he sputtered, “my prized son… like this! I- I! Disgraceful!” And then stormed out the door yet again._ _

__“Eric,” Rudyard said without really thinking, “your father is going to disown you, isn’t he?”_ _

__Chapman turned to look at Rudyard again, a grin spreading across his lovely face. “I hope so,” he beamed, “I truly hope so.”_ _


End file.
